"Don't think of it. You don't want to come back to a cold breakfast."

So both seated themselves, regretting the absence of morning newspapers.

Then the time began to drag. Finally the delay became wearisome.

"I wonder how many people Nicolas is serving this morning?" murmured
Hazelton, at last.

"Everyone in the house would be my guess," laughed Tom. Still time
dragged by.

"What on earth will Don Luis think of us?" Harry grunted.

"There is only one thing for it, if this delay lasts any longer,"
Tom answered. "If this delay lasts much longer we shall have
to put off breakfast until to-morrow and get to work."

"Put off breakfast until to-morrow?" Hazelton gasped. "That's
where I draw the line. Before I'll stir a step from here I must
have at least food enough to grubstake a canary bird."

Some minutes later, Nicolas rapped at the door. He then entered,
bearing a tray enveloped in snowy linen. This tray he put down,
then spread a tablecloth that he had brought over one arm.

"Will you be seated, _caballeros_?" he asked, respectfully, as
he took his stand by the tray. Then he whisked away the linen
cover. Gravely he set upon the table a pot of chocolate, two
dainty cups and saucers and a plate containing four rolls.